Dance (While The Music Still Goes On)
by Little Red Rose on the Valley
Summary: TRR/? x MC (Past); Liam x MC. It is the day of the Royal Wedding, but someone is not feeling as festive as the rest of the court.


She looked beautiful today.

More than ever, if you ask me. Until now, she has always been beautiful, has always been the belle of every ball, and we have been to a few this past year, but today…

Today, she is a fairy tale princess.

Quite literally so, the ingénue American plebeian got what everyone thought impossible and capture their overlord's heart, and, more importantly, his hand in holy matrimony.

I have to be honest with myself; I never thought it would come to this. Not because she was not beautiful or accomplished, or because Liam did not care for her. God, no! Anyone with eyes could see how desperately he trailed behind her, wanting nothing more than wait on her every need hand-and-foot.

However, Liam was only but a man against the laws, traditions and prejudices of our country. It was an uphill battle if it ever been one, but he was decided to make her his queen.

To be fair, she also persevered. She was accepting of the sham of his engagement with Madeleine, she held her head high towards the abuse of the courtesans, she took on Bastien, Constantine and Regina, and she investigated single-mindedly for proof that could absolve her of the crimes she was accused.

I helped; I was there every step of the way, racing around the world after some fleeting, unreachable hunch, offering my unconditional support.

Yes, I wanted to see her happy, but, again, in sights of full disclosure with myself, I wanted her to be happy with _me_ , to notice _me_ , and when she tired of playing princess, she would come away with me.

I even offered it to her! On one of the many stops on the route of Liam's royal tour, I confessed my undying love, and I said I wanted nothing more than to take her away from it all and spend my whole life making her happy.

She said yes. She had said she wanted to come away with me, too, that she loved me too. That she has always loved me.

I was the happiest person on Earth that night. We kissed and we made love, and when she left me, I plotted every step of our running away. I remember every word of my speech to Liam, of what I was going to tell him, how I was going to explain we just fell in love and neither of us wanted to hurt him.

I remembered of a small cabin that I knew we could spend the first months. It was simple, but I had no possessions to speak of, and it had the advantage of being so secluded no-one would find us there. It was a great way to wait out the scandal of the runaway King's lover. Afterwards, we could move to any city she would like, we could even go back to New York.

I picked up my passport, bought us tickets, packed up my belongings. I was ready.

The next morning, Liam waltz in with another clue from Tariq, and off we went after the man.

In the pursuit, we both forgot about our lovemaking and promises and plans, until we finally reached the disgraced nobleman, who agreed to vouch for her and to confess what really had happened that night on her room.

She was free, she was finally free, and I was just as happy as she was. I thought it was enough. She got what she wanted, we now could leave with no regrets and no unfinished business.

Before I could reach her, however, Liam had whisked her away to a private New York tour, and I dreaded of what could happen. I tossed and turned on my bed the entire night, stressing over different scenarios.

As it turns out, I was absolutely right about worrying, as the next morning, during breakfast, she had an immense rock on her ring finger, one I recall hearing it belonged to Liam's mother.

She beamed, Liam gushed and we gasped. None of us seemed to expect such a development, even if a small voice in the back of our heads insisted it would be so.

Only natural, after all. We ran across the world to clear her name for exactly that reason.

I believe we all still held to the belief Liam would be too weak, too craven to challenge his father and his nation. He never seemed to have this kind of backbone before. Why this time would be any different?

Regardless, a backbone he had, and she would wed him.

As soon as she slipped away, I followed her, grabbed her arm and demanded an explanation.

"It is him." She said, with teary eyes. "It always has been him. My resolve wavered sometimes, but… I really do love you."

"You just love him more." I finished the phrase, feeling my heart shatter in a thousand pieces, never to be whole again.

I am truly one masochistic bastard, so much so I insisted in remaining in court, following them around Cordonia, helping to plan the wedding. I did it for her. I wanted to give her the time of her life, even if in the end it was not with me she was going to stick with.

Finally, the day has come. She entered the cathedral, the eyes of the world on her, and she paraded the isle like the queen she was about to become. Jewels on her head and neck and a long train behind her, carried by four young daughters of aristocracy.

She was beautiful like never before, but I am sure I said that already.

We are all caught up. We are in the present now. I am looking, forlorn, at the dancing floor, seeing her twirl back and forth with her new husband, giggling every few minutes for good measure.

Liam was so happy it was disgusting.

Suddenly, they stop. She walks towards the band playing the music and whispers to the ear of one of the musicians, who nods dutifully at her.

After, she strides in my direction, smiling wickedly. When the music starts to play, I understand why.

"Hey, grumpy-pants." She greets, a grin on her face.

"You're playing dirty, you know that, right?" I respond, a deep scowl on my face.

She chuckles. "You know me. I get what I want, no matter what."

That statement rang true in many levels.

"Come, dance with me." She grabs my hand and tries to pull me into the dance floor. "It is our song, you can't say no to me."

Yes, _our_ song. It was the first song we danced together, so many months ago. I would never forget that time, and it warmed me that she still remembered.

I sighed. "Fine."

We twirled around the room, in silence, while we performed the graceful steps of the dance.

"I miss you, you know?" She said, suddenly, and I almost step on her toes over it.

"What do you mean?" I ask. "I didn't go anywhere."

"Might as well." She accused. "I miss _you_. I miss our friendship, I miss being able to tell you things and to hear you talking to me. Not those inane wedding preparation stuff, but real, meaningful things."

"It's not easy for me, you know?!" I retort, angry.

"I know. I'm sorry, and I know it doesn't make any better, but I am and I won't stop saying it until it stops being true." She said, and then let out a long sigh of her own. "Look, the music is still playing. Let's focus on dancing, on right now, and we'll worry about each other when we're done, alright?"

I wanted to do that, I wanted to treasure that moment she was mine and only mine, but I could not do that any longer.

So I let her go, I walked away from the dance floor and out the door.

I could still hear the music playing, but I did not want to dance anymore.


End file.
